


Behind Closed Doors

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Animal Death, Animal Play, Necrophilia, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-02
Updated: 2011-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine had never thought that a situation like this could possibly be so arousing, but then again, it's said that you learn something new every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors

Blaine groaned in frustration, lifting his head off of the bed just enough to be able to glare at the cause of his current predicament. He was really starting to regret agreeing to Kurt's request that he look over Pavarotti for the weekend. Sure, they were good friends and all, and Kurt didn't want the bird around the house in fear of Finn somehow killing the small creature, but apparently Blaine did not think the logistics of his pet-keeping endeavors through thoroughly enough. That damn thing just would _not_ stop chirping, and Blaine really valued his beauty sleep; sleep which he would coincidentally not be getting that night, because of that annoying bird and its annoying bird noises.

"What do you even _want_?" Blaine cried somewhat hysterically, lifting himself up fully and throwing his legs over the side of his bed in order to walk to Pavarotti's cage. At least his roommate was also gone for the weekend. Blaine did not have to put up with Byran's bitching in addition to his own. Blaine blinked blearily and lifted the cover off of the cage to reveal the small warbler hopping around frantically, chirping and tweeting every few seconds. Rolling his eyes exasperatedly, Blaine opened the cage's small door and stuck his hand in, attempting to coax the bird into his palm. Pavarotti eventually settled down enough for Blaine to gently wrap his hand around the animal and pull him out, holding him close to his chest once he did so. The curly-haired boy stroked the top of Pavarotti's head, willing him to just shut _up_ so he could finally get some sleep.

What Blaine wasn't expecting, however, was for a large, extremely unsettling crash to sound then, seemingly coming from the hallway right outside his dorm room. Blaine jumped, accidentally knocking into the nearby desk and tripping over it. He fell face-first on to the floor, twisting his ankle in the process. Blaine was able to hear footsteps pounding and the gentle murmur of conversation from out in the hall, but he suddenly had more pressing issues to deal with than whatever was going on out there. Blaine had put out his hands to attempt to break his fall. Pavarotti had been in one of those hands.

Blaine had accidentally crushed the bird amidst his fall to the floor.

Shit. Kurt was going to kick his ass when he found out. No, scratch that. All of the Warblers were going to kick his ass for killing their precious mascot. _Shit_.

Oh god. There was bird blood on his hands, not to mention the _dead bird_ currently by his hands. Blaine hesitantly sat up, wincing from the pain caused by his bruises and the tension he could feel in his now-damaged ankle. He plucked up Pavarotti's corpse, holding it in mid-air while he stared pleadingly at it. What the _fuck_ was Blaine going to do now? Seriously, though, Kurt was _so_ not going to be happy when he returned only to find out that one of his best friends had killed his pet. Ugh. That was one bitchfit Blaine was not looking forward to. Although, Kurt _did_ look pretty hot when he was angry. Not that that was relevant, or appropriate given the circumstances, and _oh god_ Blaine was sitting on the floor, injured and with a goddamn dead bird in his possession and he couldn't even stop thinking about how nice Kurt's lips looked and oh lord how in the fresh hell could he be getting a hard-on _right now_?

Blaine groaned, and looked up at the ceiling imploringly. The ceiling did not respond in kind.

But right then, Blaine glanced back down at the deceased warbler and stared at it for a moment. Even though that bird was as annoying as shit and completely dead on top of it, it was still very nice-looking. Blaine was kind of curious as to why contemplating the beauty of a somewhat crushed and bloodied bird was not a total boner-kill. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect on Blaine, much to his chagrin. But he couldn't help it though! As attractive as Kurt was, Pavarotti was just so _pretty_ -looking. And oh god, now Blaine kind of wanted to rub himself all up on a dead bird. A very dead one at that.

He glanced around, feeling incredibly awkward but just as turned on for even thinking about what he was contemplating on doing next. And _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Blaine was really going to do this, because he was reaching for Pavarotti's corpse and pulling down his noticeably tented pajama pants at the same time. Blaine groaned as his erection was freed, and gently picked up the bird residing right by him. The semi-congealed blood stuck to his palm, and Blaine used it as lubrication as he transferred Pavarotti's body to his other hand and reached for his own cock. Blaine stared down at the bird as he stroked himself to full hardness, groaning lightly, and made sure to collect more blood from its body occasionally, in order to keep his stroking somewhat smoother. Blaine's breathing hitched as he twisted and pulled his hand over the head of his dick, and he brought Pavarotti closer to his face as he continued to stroke himself, breathing in the scent of bird features and tangy blood deeply. He kept at it, squirming and attempting to thrust his hips upward as he got closer and closer to climax, and thinking of Pavarotti's body all the while. Blaine moaned, feeling himself quickly nearing his limits, and brought Pavarotti's body right over his dick as he was about to come. Blaine grunted as come splashed over and coated the bird's body, and ignoring the pain in his ankle, he shifted his legs to the side. Blaine shuddered and sighed, not stopping to think about any potential consequences of his actions before he brought the desecrated corpse up to his face again, and licked his own cooling ejaculate from Pavarotti's body.

He had never thought the taste of animal blood and come could possibly be so arousing before this. Ignoring the residual stickiness between his legs in order to focus on other sensations, Blaine continued to caress the warbler's body with his tongue, reveling at the texture and taste of the feathers in his mouth. Blaine could feel his dick twitch with interest, but really, it was a bit too soon to being getting it up again. Blaine decided to haul himself up then, being careful not to put too much weight on his injured foot, and hobbled over to the empty bird cage. He gently put Pavarotti body back in it, and threw the sheet back over the top of it. Blaine then grabbed his bedding to wipe himself off, and righted his furniture again before throwing himself on top of the bed and falling quickly asleep.

* * *

When Kurt came back on Sunday, he received a small, yellow warbler back from Blaine, and he thanked his friend for watching over the bird during the weekend. Blaine only flashed a charming smile back, and told him that they're friends, of course it's not a problem at all. After all, it didn't really hurt Kurt if he didn't know that Pavarotti the first had been disposed of and a replacement from the local pet store was residing in the cage in his place. Blaine was allowed to have his secrets too.


End file.
